


Hung Up On You

by Ann_Drist



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alcohol, Alcoholism, Attempted dirty talk via phone, Biromantic Dean, Bisexual Dean, Dean drunkenly talks about his feelings, Dean has feelings for Cas and they're gay feelings, Dean tells Cas how he feels about him (sort of), Dean tells Sam how he feels about Cas, Dr. Sexy - Freeform, Dr. Sexy MD, Fluff, Food, Humor, M/M, Magic Fingers, Motel, One-Shot, Pining Dean Winchester, Roughly late Season Five, Slightly Canon-Divergent, Some angst but there's a happy ending, Vomit Mention, short one-shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-22
Updated: 2016-02-22
Packaged: 2018-05-22 14:42:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,780
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6083349
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ann_Drist/pseuds/Ann_Drist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean giggled. “Hey, Cas.”<br/>“Yes, Dean?”<br/>Dean’s voice lowered and he whispered, “What’re you wearin’?”<br/>There was a long pause. Dean could practically hear Castiel’s suspicious sideways squint over the phone.<br/>“…what?”<br/>Dean grinned. “You heard me.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hung Up On You

Dean turned the motel room key. It only made it a quarter turn before sticking. Dean let his duffle bag fall the the floor and used both hands to twist the key and turn the handle. 

Sam hovered behind him. “D’you need me to—”

“ _No_. I got it.” 

Dean was stiff and achey from sitting in the car all day. His shoulders and his lower back were killing him. This fucking motel door, sticking in the doorframe because it was warped from age and damp weather, was the only thing standing in between him and a bed with Magic Fingers. And dammit, it was starting to feel personal. 

Dean pulled the handle towards him, wrenched the key, and shoved his shoulder against the door. 

It made a booming _thud_ that the other motel guests probably weren’t too happy to hear. 

Dean slung his duffle on the floor and collapsed on one of the queen beds, moaning in relief. 

Sam rustled around, setting out his toothbrush and shaving kit in the bathroom. Dean heard him walk back into the tiny foyer. 

“You wanna grab dinner? I’m starving.”

Dean hauled himself into a half-sitting position. “ _I_ am not going _anywhere_.”

He snagged his keys out of his pocket and tossed them in Sam’s general direction. Sam looked down at the keys on the floor and narrowed his eyes at Dean.

“Go get something for yourself and pick me up a burger and some pie, will ya?” He kicked his boots off and laid back down.

Sam rolled his eyes and scooped the keys off the floor. “Fine.”

“And _beer_!” Dean called after him. 

 

After Sam left, Dean pulled himself off the bed. He rummaged around in his duffle bag and came away with a fifth of whiskey and a handful of quarters. 

He dropped a couple quarters into the slot for the Magic Fingers. The bed started to vibrate. Dean stretched out on his back and let out a hedonistic moan. He settled into the mattress. “Oh, yeah. Riiiight there. Mmmm.” The tension in his back and shoulders melted away. 

 

After a while he reached an arm out, patting the top of the nightstand until his fingers found the remote. Dean opened the bottle and took a swig right out of it.

He settled back against the pillows, let the Magic Fingers work their … magic, and started flipping through channels. He sipped his bottom-shelf bourbon as he channel surfed. 

Magic Fingers. Evan Williams. Basic cable. The finer things in life.

“Ooh. Hello there, Dr. Sexy.” Dean turned up the volume. It looked like they were finally playing reruns of the most recent season. Excellent.

 

His phone beeped. It was a text from Sam saying that he’d found a restaurant with “the best salads in Bonner County” and was eating there.

Dean started typing a response. “Whatever. I’m watching”—he glanced at the TV and looked back down at his phone screen—“the game. Order me a burger and bring back pie and beer and we’re good.” Dean pressed send. He tossed the phone back on the nightstand and fed his last few quarters into the Magic Fingers slot. He sprawled out belly-down on the bed so he could get a closer look at Dr. Sexy.

The show, he meant. 

Not the guy.

 

Dean had his chin propped in his hands, watching the episode unfold with rapt attention. It was one he’d missed the first time it aired. At the commercial breaks, he’d snag his bottle of bourbon off the floor by the foot of the bed and have a few more drinks. 

Three quarters of the way through the episode—and about that far through through the bottle—his phone went off again. Dean groaned & leaned over to answer it.

“Y’ello?” 

“Hello, Dean.” 

A huge smile broke out on Dean’s face. “Caaas.” 

“Yes, it’s me.” 

Dean was glad to hear Cas’s voice, but he’d had a long day. Cas was talking about serious things, job-related plans for tomorrow, but Dean was having trouble focusing on the details. He did catch a “tell Sam” amid all the other stuff.

Dean rubbed a hand over his face. “Okay, I’ll tell him when I see him. He’s out right now. Eatin’ rabbit food. But ah, for now it’s just me. In here. All by my lonesome.” 

“I see.” 

Dean giggled. “Hey, Cas.”

“Yes, Dean?”

Dean’s voice lowered and he whispered, “What’re you wearin’?” 

There was a long pause. Dean could practically hear Castiel’s suspicious sideways squint over the phone. 

“…what?”

Dean grinned. “You heard me.”

“Dean, I haven’t changed clothes since we’ve met.” 

“So then, you would be wearing . . .” Dean’s voice trailed off. 

“…the same clothes I always wear.” 

“Mmm. Tell me more about that.” Dean took another sip of bourbon.

“…I’m wearing an overcoat. And a . . . suit.” 

“What else?”

“A . . . shirt? And shoes and socks. And a tie.” 

“Is your tie backwards?” 

Cas frowned and looked down at his tie. He twisted it back and forth a few times. “I … don’t think so.”

Dean chuckled. “If it looks how it always does, then it’s backwards.” 

Cas frowned down at his tie again. 

“So, anything else?” 

“What?”

“Are you _wearing_ anything else. Other than your overcoat, suit, shirt, shoes and socks, and tie.” 

“Oh, well, underwear. Boxers, I believe is the term.” 

“What color?”

“I’m sorry?” 

“What color boxers?”

“I . . . don’t know. I never take these clothes off, Dean.” 

“D’you ever want to?”

“What?”

“Do you ever _want_ to take your clothes off?”

Cas let out an exasperated sigh. “Dean, I have no need to change clothes or take them off.” 

“I’m not talkin ’bout _need_. I’m talkin ’bout _want_.” 

Cas held out his phone and frowned at it.

“I—Dean …” 

“And, uh, Cas y’know, if you don’t know what color boxers you’re wearin, you could unbutton your pants and take a peek. And then tell me about it.” 

Cas blinkled. “I …”

“You don’t have to. I mean you can if you want, but you don’t …gotta.” 

“… I see.” There was a slight pause. “Dean …” 

“Why do I wanna know what color boxers you’re wearin?” 

“Well. Yes.” 

Dean shrugged and rolled over onto his back. “I dunno. ’Cause you’re sexy.” 

There was silence from the other end of the line. 

Dean took a deep breath and kept talking. “I’ve always thought you were sexy. Ever since we first met in that damn barn … Even though I stabbed you. Sorry about that. Uh. But yeah…” Dean proceeded to tell Cas exactly how sexy he thought he was, and why. And he understood why Cas might feel a little shy about hearing this, but even in his drunken stupor he started to have a nagging worry about why Cas was being so silent. 

“Uh, hey, buddy. I didn’t mean to weird you out or anything. Cas? Say something? Please?” 

He lowered his phone and looked down at the screen. It informed him that the call had ended five minutes ago. “SHIT.” His first instict was throw the phone across the room, but he needed to call Cas and apologize first. 

He exhaled as the phone rang, and held on to the slim hope that Cas _hadn’t_ hung up on him. Maybe he’d just lost signal. They were out in the boonies, cell reception was no great shakes. 

It went to voicemail. Dean cursed under his breath and hung up. What the hell was he supposed to say? He stared at the screen and got a sinking feeling in his stomach. _He_ had full bars on his end. And the reception during the call had been fine—no static or anything. 

So not only had Cas hung up on him, it looked like he was also not answering Dean’s calls. 

Dean grimaced. “Way to go.” He put his phone back on the nightstand. Then he chugged the rest of his fifth of bourbon and chunked the empty bottle across the room. The plastic clattered against the wall and fell to the cheap carpet with a hollow _thunk_. He’d gone from being happy drunk to morose drunk in a matter of seconds. He slumped on the bed and buried his head in his arms. Dr. Sexy was still playing on the TV but Dean didn’t feel like watching anymore. He would let the Magic Fingers lull him to sleep.

Except just then the mattress stopped vibrating. 

Dean shoved his face in the pillow and promised himself he wouldn’t cry. 

 

Sam walked down the dingy motel hall with a spring in his step. He’d just had an _amazing_ salad, with baby spinach, fresh raspberries, walnuts, feta cheese, and a house-made raspberry-balsamic vinaigrette. And they’d served burgers, too, so he’d gotten one to-go for his brother. And fresh raspberry pie. And Sam had even remembered to stop at a liquor store and pick up a six-pack. 

He shoved his shoulder against the sticky door, walked in and put all the goodies on the kitchenette counter. “Got everything you wanted!” Sam called out as he bustled around. “You owe me. Burger, beer, and I didn’t forget the pie!” 

He heard an agonized groan. Sam frowned. “Dean?”

His brother was lying facedown on the bed. That hospital soap opera he loved so much was playing, but Dean wasn’t even watching it. Sam did a double-take when he noticed the empty liquor bottle in the corner. 

“Dude! What the hell happened?” 

Dean turned his head so his face wasn’t covered by the pillow. “I told Cas he was sexy and he hung up on me!” Then he buried his face in the pillow again. 

Sam blinked. “Okay … um, don’t worry about it.” He reached out to awkwardly pat Dean on the shoulder. “Next time you talk you can tell him how drunk you were and it’ll all be water under the bridge, all right?” 

Dean shrugged off Sam’s hand and turned his head again. “I didn’t say it cuz I was drunk! I mean, I _said_ it cuz I was drunk, but I think it, all the time.” 

Sam took a seat on the other bed. “What? Since when?” 

Dean rolled over and let his head loll back on the pillow. “Since _always_. The first time I met him—you weren’t there—but _god,_ he just like,” Dean rubbed his face, “busted in, with all the wind and the lightning, and he just, _walked_ in, like… a runway model? Only sexy and badass and like he could destroy you like—” Dean tried to snap his fingers but wasn’t coordinated enough. 

“So kinda like … maybe Aragorn. Only way more badass. And not as scruffy, Aragorn’s a lil’ too scruffy. Needs a haircut. Yeah. So,” Dean pointed at Sam. “Youuu weren’t there in the barn, when it was all” Dean brought his closed fists together and then raised his arms up while slowly opening his hands “buwaahhhhhh.”

Sam stared at him. Dean kept talking.

“And then I stabbed him? Cause I thought he was gonna kill us? Sunk a knife in his chest and he just _looked_ at me, like, ‘you pathetic moron, did you really think that would hurt me?’ And I was just like _fuck me_ , partly cuz, I’m so fucked, I’m totally at this thing’s mercy, but also because, no, literally please fuck me, I think you’re the hottest thing I’ve ever seen in my life. Mighta _said_ it, if Bobby weren’t there. But, he was, so.” Dean held his hands out, palms up. 

He rubbed the heel of his hand against his eyes, not noticing the deer-in-the-headlights look on Sam’s face. “Allllways wanted ta fuck him.” Dean frowned slightly. “Or have him fuck me.” He waved his hand. “Whichever. We could take turns, if it was like, more than just a one-time thing.” 

Sam’s eyebrows were getting increasingly closer to his hairline.

Dean took a deep breath. “So like, maybe th’ most powerful supernatural being I’ve ever met, awesome bedroom eyes, sex hair, ten out of ten, would fuck in a heartbeat. Right? So, whatever, I got used to that. But then I started to have like,” Dean turned his head in Sam’s direction, but wouldn’t quite look him in the eye, “ _gay_ feelings for him.” 

Sam burst out laughing and then covered his mouth. “I’m sorry. I just. So you wanted to have sex with him, and _then_ you started having gay feelings for him?” 

Dean shot Sam an annoyed look. “S’what I said, _Samuel_.” Dean waved a finger drunkenly in the air as he explained. “There’s like, wantin ta fuck a guy, which is gay. But then there’s like, wantin ta kiss him when he’s feelin down and just … run your hand through his hair and tell him everything’s gonna be okay … which is like, _gay_ -gay. And—” Dean covered his face with a pillow and mumbled into it. 

Sam leaned forward. “What?” 

Dean lifted the pillow off his face and threw it across the room. “I said I wanna hold his hand!” he yelled. He rolled over and wallowed down into the bed. 

“Oh … okay, um.” Sam bit the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing. Despite the drunken delivery, it was clear that Dean was serious about this. Sam wished he could do something to help or say something to make it better, but this was between Cas and Dean, and he was out of the loop. 

“Well, um, look, I’m sure you and Cas can talk this out …” Dean’s only response to that was a miserable-sounding whine.

“Okay, okay, um … I brought you back a burger.” 

“I don’t _want_ a burger.” Dean’s voice was muffled by the bedspread.

Sam winced in sympathy. Wow, Dean really was lovesick.

 

 

 

Dean was half-awake when he heard his phone ring. In the back of his mind, something reminded him that he really needed to answer it, that it could be something very important. But his mouth felt like dry cotton and his limbs were heavy and useless. And after a while the phone stopped ringing. Then he felt a hand on his shoulder. 

“Hey, Dean? Phone for you. It’s Cas.” 

Dean sat up quickly. He immediately let out an agonized groan and pressed his palm against his throbbing forehead. But he gestured for the phone with his other hand. 

“Cas!” 

“Hello Dean. I wanted to apologize for the way our conversation ended last night.” 

“No, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have …” Dean’s voice trailed off. Shouldn’t have what? Attempted to talk dirty to him over the phone? Tried to entice him into having phone sex? How was he supposed to phrase that without making Cas even more uncomfortable than he had last night?” 

But Cas was speaking again. “No, it was my fault the call was cut short. I ran out of minutes.” 

Dean’s entire body sagged in relief. “Oh. _Oh._ So you didn’t hang up on me.”

“I would never hang up on you.” 

Dean grinned, feeling bashful and pleased. “Well—I …” He cleared his throat. “Good.” 

“About our conversation last night.” 

“…yeah?” Dean asked. He could feel himself tensing up again. _It was inappropriate. It was gross. Don’t talk to me like that again,_ were the kinds of things Dean was bracing himself to hear. His stomach gave a lurch that didn’t have anything to do with drinking a fifth of bourbon last night on an empty stomach. 

“That question you asked me. That I didn’t know the answer to.” 

Dean winced. _Where do you get off asking me questions about my underwear, you degenerate pervert?_ ran through his head. “…yes?”

“They’re white.” 

Dean blinked. “They’re—oh. _Oh._ ” A slow, satisfied smile spread across his face. “ _Are_ they?” 

“Yes.” 

Dean caught his lower lip between his teeth. “Well, how ’bout that.” He leaned back against the headboard and noticed Sam out of the corner of his eye. Shit. He’d forgotten he was in the room. Dean cleared his throat. “Okay. Well, uh, I gotta go. But I will talk to you again. Soon. About, ah. This. Okay. Yup.” He hung up and beamed at Sam. 

Sam gave a cautious smile. “Everything okay between you guys now?” 

Dean swung his legs over the side of the bed. “Better than okay. Everything’s _great_.” 

Dean stood up. “Oh, god.” 

“You all right there?” 

Dean forced a grin and jauntily pointed a finger at Sam. “ _I’m_ going to go throw up now. And brush my teeth a few times. And then I’m gonna eat that burger you got me last night.”

Sam chuckled. “There’s a deli around the corner. Want me to grab you some coffee?”

“You are a lifesaver, Sammy,” Dean called from the bathroom. “Ahh, it’s gonna be a good day.”

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it! :D


End file.
